


Silk Ribbon

by 0hHeyThereBigBadWolf



Series: A Threefold Path [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Birthday Sex, Do Not Re-Post To Another Site, Fluff and Smut, Group Marriage, Humor, Multi, Polyamory, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0hHeyThereBigBadWolf/pseuds/0hHeyThereBigBadWolf
Summary: Gwen knows exactly what to give Arthur for his natality. Yes, it's a week early, but she knows that he'll appreciate it...except his council is running late, and it is dreadfully boring just sitting in their chambers waiting for him.Seems she and Merlin will just have to pass the time on their own.
Relationships: Gwen/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: A Threefold Path [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120076
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	Silk Ribbon

"I feel ridiculous."

Gwen smiles as she finishes pulling a brush through her hair, shaking it all out to settle it. "You don't look ridiculous, and stop fussing with them, or I'll have to do the bows again."

Merlin huffs and stops plucking at the ribbons, instead dropping his hands to fiddle with the edges of the bedspread. The ribbons are all he wears, stripes of vivid crimson silk tied around both his wrists and his neck and tied in perfect bows. Well, _almost_ perfect. One's crooked now that he's been plucking at it. "We couldn't have waited for his natality proper?"

Setting the brush down, she turns and crosses to the bed, grabbing his wrist. "No. Arthur hates all the fuss, and with all the panderers flocking about, he'll either be exhausted or in foul temper by the time we retire to bed," she replies, untying the ribbon he'd mangled and straightening it out, retying the bow. "There, now leave them." Sighing, she sinks down to sit on the end of the bed beside them, stretching out her legs beside his. They look so starkly different like this. Merlin's legs are almost paler than the rest of him, knobby bone and wiry muscle dusted with dark hair, herself dusky and occasionally freckled, just as well-muscled but perhaps a little more well-fed. Gwen sighs. "Although, this is dreadfully boring, I'll give you that. We should've married a crofter."

Merlin huffs a little laugh, but she notices that he goes tense for a moment at her words. He still does that whenever they speak as if he is their husband, bound to her and Arthur in marriage. Perhaps there is no official marriage to be performed, but she does think of them as wed, the three of them. Arthur does too. The real trick of it is convincing Merlin of the same.

"No matter what Arthur thinks, he'd never be able to survive on a proper farm," Merlin replies, flashing her a grin. "He can barely wake up in the mornings as it is. Can you imagine him being out of bed before dawn?"

"Still. I think there's times he'd prefer something simpler than this." She can't picture Arthur out of bed before daybreak, milking goats and threshing wheat, but there are times she can imagine him tending a garden, living a life uninvolved with politics and war, the three of them sharing a small house like Hunith's in Ealdor, concerned with nothing greater than their store of firewood and the state of their larder.

Merlin nods agreement, though his gaze has gone slightly distant. She wonders if he's imagining the same life.

Inching closer to him, she reaches out and smooths a hand over his shoulder, down his upper arm; his skin is smooth and warm, her fingers tripping over the odd scar. "Perhaps we can find something to pass the time," she murmurs, moving closer to spread her hands over his chest. His chest hair is finer, softer than Arthur's, though he doesn't have as much, part of his chest marred smooth and shiny with an old burn scar. "What would you like to do?"

Merlin stares at her with widened eyes, lips slightly parted in mingled surprise and desire. "I-I thought we were waiting for Arthur," he finally replies.

"Who knows how long council will run?" She reaches up to fiddle with the ribbon tied around his neck in place of his usual scarf. "I can retie these later."

After a moment, one of Merlin's fidgeting hands drifts over to rest on her lap, sliding over until his fingertips are almost-almost between her thighs, making small circles on her skin. His fingertips are callused, and the skin there is soft and sensitive. "We, uhm, we can play come-into-my-castle," he says at last, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He startles a little when she leans forward and buries her face in his neck. She hasn't thought of that game for years now. It's a game often played by children, at least the children in Camelot. Merlin hadn't heard of it until she told him, and once she had, he'd invented a rather different version, one certainly _not_ suitable for children. "That sounds lovely," she murmurs into his neck. "Later, we'll teach Arthur." Feeling him shiver slightly with repressed delight, she tilts her head and takes one ribbon-tail in her teeth, pulling back until the bow comes undone.

"Maiden's mercy," he rasps out, blinking rapidly.

Smiling, she pulls her legs up and moves further up the bed until she's reclining against the pillows; Merlin turns his head to let his gaze follow her, but he doesn't move until she prods the small of his back with her toes. "Are you going to play from all the way down there?" she prompts.

His smile grows into a full grin, and he turns and crawls up the bed, his arms to either side of her legs as he ascends towards her.

Gwen runs her hands up his flanks slowly, feeling the shuddering rise-and-fall of his breathing; her fingers fit into the shallow dips between his ribs. Merlin shivers lightly under her touch, lashes fluttering, and his sharp exhale ruffles her hair. She's touched him like this before, and yet it is still new to her. Before, they had always been careful not to go too far, to cross any lines that couldn't be uncrossed, and now, in this tender new life they have begun to build, Arthur has always been with them. They've never been like this when it is only them, her and Merlin, and it is almost like they're starting anew.

Merlin touches her like she might dissolve if he handles her too roughly, blow away like smoke and vanish from his arms. It's different than how Arthur touches her, but it stirs a different kind of arousal in her, too. She closes her eyes, relaxing back into the bed as Merlin braces himself over her, holding his body just near enough for her to feel his warmth. She doesn't look, just waits for the warm brush of his breath, his lips. He follows no pattern she can discern, merely wherever it seems to please him next, flicking the tip of his tongue over her skin as if to taste her, blowing softly over the little damp spots he leaves to make her shiver. He kisses her left shoulder, then her right flank. The hollow of her throat, the bend of her elbow. Beneath her ear, between her breasts. Arousal pulses in her blood, sweet and hot, not entirely urgent yet, wondering where he'll go next.

He suckles at one nipple, but only for a moment, the tease, but then he slides further down. Gwen gasps softly when she feels the warm tickle of breath on her belly, just above her curls, gasping aloud when his mouth presses to the soft hollow at the crease of her hip, applying just enough teeth to leave a mark. One hand drifts up blindly, fingers bumping against his shoulder before moving up and over, finding silk-soft hair. "Merlin," she whispers.

"May I come into your castle, Guinevere?" he asks on a warm exhale over her hip.

"Please."

The first touch of his tongue brings a soft cry from her lips, and she brings her thighs together on impulse, squeezing. Gwen brings her other hand down to his hair, curling it around her fingers as he settles himself between her legs. She tries not to compare her lovers, but in this, Merlin has the greater skill than Arthur, at least for now. He teases the folds of her nether-lips with the tip of his tongue until she tightens her grip on his hair, and then he licks her with quick, delicate strokes like a cat lapping cream. When her thighs tighten around him, then he works his tongue into her as deep as he can. It goes on for a long time like that, bringing her up almost to the peak before backing off again, rising and falling in waves until all the world dissolves beneath them, time measured in the strokes of his tongue. "Merlin. Merlin, _please,"_ she implores.

Shifting slightly, he manages to wedge a hand between her legs, slipping two fingers inside her, curling them up against her inner walls as he closes his mouth around her pearl, and Gwen cries out, back arching up off the bed as climax shudders through her, so powerful she sees stars for a moment. He strokes her lightly until the spasms subside, pulling back to rest his cheek on against her thigh. His ears are red from her squeezing him so tight. She tugs gently on his hair, a summons, and he crawls up the bed to brace himself above her.

Gwen hooks a hand around the back of his neck, leaning up to kiss him and tasting herself on his mouth. "Come here," she murmurs, pulling at him until he lays down atop her, warm and solid, and she hooks her legs around his hips. She can feel him against her belly, hard and hot and ready, and her lower body aches with want. Reaching down, she curls a hand around him, feels him twitch against her palm, and Merlin groans softly, lashes flickering. Gwen shifts her hips, guiding, fitting the head of his shaft to her, gasping softly as he shifts his hips forward, filling her. She's slick enough from her first climax and his mouth that he slides into her with ease, sinking in up to the hilt.

"Gods, I—" Merlin buries his head into the bend of her neck, breath hot and humid on her skin. "I won't last like this. You're so— _gods,_ Gwen."

"It's alright, it's alright, just—" She smooths both hands up his back and curls her fingers around his shoulder blades, digging her nails in. "Come on, love."

Merlin groans again, a low moan from the bottom of his chest and starts moving, little whines catching in his throat. Gwen clutches at his back, knees hooked over his hips; she'd need more time and coaxing, to peak again so soon, but it hardly matters. It still feels _good,_ drawing out those last bright-sharp shivers of pleasure from her first climax, and the feel of him is delight all its own, moving in and out of her; his rhythm falters, hips stuttering, and he cries out, muffled in her shoulder as he spills inside her.

Gwen strokes his back, sweat-slick and over-hot, feeling tremors running through him as he half-collapses atop her. "Sorry," he gasps out. "You didn't…"

"Shh. Don't be. It was wonderful. And we've the rest of the night to make up for it." She kisses his shoulder, tasting the warm salt of sweat. "You've a silver tongue to match any courtier, Merlin mine," she murmurs, and he gives a weak chortle. After a moment, he shifts his weight over, pulling out of her and lying beside her, head resting on her breast. She gently runs her fingers through the back of his hair down to his nape. After pulling his hair so much, his scalp will be tender.

She isn't certain how long they lay there, drowsing in the aftermath of love, not quite asleep but not wholly awake. The sound of the door opening rouses her, however, and she opens her eyes to see Arthur approaching. He pauses slightly at the doorway, brows arching at the sight of them, then moves closer, circling around to stand beside the bed. "What's…" He sketches a vague gesture in the air over them. "…all this? And…this?" He reaches down toward her, a bemused smile playing at his lips. Gwen feels a tug from under her neck, and a length of red ribbon dangles from his fingers.

"We were going to be your present. For your natality," she answers in a murmur, still stroking Merlin's hair; he is always liable to fall asleep afterwards if he's treated gently. His own ribbons are long gone, probably somewhere in the covers.

Arthur raises his brows. "My natality isn't until next week."

"We know, but we wanted to surprise you early, before the feast and everything else," she says quietly. She knows Arthur isn't exactly fond of his natality and never has been, more so now that it is also the anniversary of both his parents' deaths. Now that he is king, he doesn't make as large a production of it as Uther had, but there is still a celebration, and he's always hated planning those. "We weren't expecting council to run so late."

"If I'd known, I would've cancelled it with all haste. Either way, it certainly doesn't look as though you've wanted for occupation." He twines the ribbon between his fingers and pulls it through. He likes the texture of the silk on his skin; she knows because he loves it when she wears her silk stockings to bed. "Well," he begins in a deceptively casual, thoughtful tone, "I suppose it is still my…natality."

"It is," she agrees.

"Perhaps…we could wake Merlin?"

"Perhaps Merlin is already awake." He doesn't lift his head, but he does shift slightly, cheek resting on Gwen's breast as he peers up at Arthur, a languid smile on his face. "And also quite ready for whatever you two are thinking of."

Arthur fiddles with the ribbon, extending his arm over the bed with it dangling from his fingers, the tail of it dragging over Merlin's flank; it must tickle, the way Merlin squirms and inhales sharply. "I'm quite put out that I wasn't even given the chance to unwrap my own present, for my own natality," he continues, though the casualness has slipped from his tone, replaced with a playful teasing.

"Well, perhaps we can begin again in the same manner, so you may," Gwen replies, matching his tone as she catches his meaning.

He pretends to think on it, pursing his lips in a thoughtful moue. "Yes, I think that will serve very nicely." A wicked grin flashes over his face. "For a start."

When he starts to climb onto the bed with them, Merlin sits up and places both hands on his chest, pushing back just enough to stop him. Arthur stares, bemused, and Gwen wonders for a moment if Arthur still has his boots on, but then Merlin grins. "That isn't your present, husband," he drawls.

Gwen wonders if he realises what he's said. Arthur certainly does, if the soft hitch in his breath is any indication. She hopes Merlin did, hopes he knows that they are his as much as he is theirs, held true in their hearts.

Merlin untangles his legs from the sheets and climbs off the bed, crossing the chamber mother-naked whilst Arthur and Gwen watch in shared curiosity, but she understands with a spike of delight and lust when Merlin grabs Arthur's armchair from the hearth and pulls it across the chamber, planting it beside the bed, angled to best observe the occupants. Arthur lets himself be led as Merlin takes his shoulders and draws him back from the bed, guiding him back into the armchair. _"We_ are your present," he murmurs. "So sit right here and enjoy it."

"Alright," Arthur rasps out.

A devious gleam comes to Merlin's gaze, and he guides Arthur's hands to the armrests of the chair. "No touching. Not until we unwrap you."

A soft noise catches in the back of Arthur's throat, a ragged almost-whimper, but then he manages to repeat, "Alright."

Merlin backs up to the bed, sinking down to sit on the edge, and Gwen sits up, moving closer to run her hands up his back. She'd found another of his ribbons when he'd gotten up from the bed and has retied them around her wrists. She loops her arms over Merlin's shoulders, using the trailing end of one ribbon to tickle his throat, pressing her cheek to Merlin's and meeting Arthur's gaze. "Well, lord husband. Are you ready for your present?"

"Gods, yes." His eyes are lust-dark, pupils blown so wide they're more black than blue, and he already has a white-knuckle grip on the armrests.

"Good." She runs her hands over Merlin's chest, lightly dragging her nails over the faint scar over his breastbone. "I can't wait to see what you two think up for _my_ natality."

Merlin turns his head slightly, rubbing his cheek along hers so he can murmur against the corner of her lips, "Oh, I'm sure we'll be able to come up with something."

Arthur groans softly from his chair, a sure sign that he has just as many ideas as Merlin does.

Gwen hopes they'll have plenty of natalities to explore them all.


End file.
